


His Demons

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I wanted to help.Somehow, in any way, or at least a little bit, I wanted to help.Even if I ended up writting about me, and changing a name.I don't know if you wanted help. This probably doesn't help you. And sorry if this bothers you, I understand that feeling when people say nice words to you like it actually changed something.Or maybe you don't feel that way.Maybe not me, but there's so, so many people out there, in the internet, in tumblr, in blogs, so many people willing to help. A hole community that understands you.I'm sorry if you just wanted to let things out, and this is just a bother.But if you want help, comment, and I will help you.I promise.





	His Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [craycraygrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/craycraygrl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [His Demons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478444) by [craycraygrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/craycraygrl/pseuds/craycraygrl). 



Lancer discovered he suffered from depression the year he turned sixteen. 

It wasn´t diagnosed. And some days he felt guilty, telling himself that he was nothing but a whiny kid who likes to seek for attention and feel bad for himself.  
So he settled for: “The kind of person who tends to have depressive thoughts”.

When someone made fun of him, even as a joke, he heard a voice inside his head saying, yelling that they were right. When his friends had to choose between him and someone else, he always walked out, to save them the hard choice of picking him out of pity, or ending uo looking like the bad guys. (And no, the decision which one they to choose wasn´t the hard choice, because, who would even think of picking Lance?)  
The day they were discussing about suicide, and one of his friends said, “You can say all you want, but you haven’t got the mind of a suicidal person”, oh, oh lord, Lance almost fucking lost it.  
Almost.

But that year, half fifteen, half sixteen, sweet and sour year, he also discovered a method to cope down with his stupid, worn out mind.

An unhealthy, dangerous and destined to failure method.

And no, it wasn’t cutting. He had thought of it, of course, but because of his bad luck (or who knows, maybe good luck?) every time he felt like the world was falling above him, there weren’t any sharp objects near.  
And Lance couldn’t bring himself, no, was too coward to go and buy some razor blades.

So he just settled for closing his fist too tight and digging his nails on his flesh.  
It helped.

What his perfect method consisted of, was putting on a perfect, unbreakable mask.  
Pretend everything was okay until it was that way. ‘Fake it till you make it’. Whatever you want to call it.  
Lance dug everything soooo deep no one even suspected the cheerful, easy going kid who liked to make bad jokes and was often teased because of struggled to find a will to live.

Oh, well. Things were the way they were.

And sometimes, he sometimes thought of telling someone.

Not his parents, no. If there was a reason Lance was still alive, and not found dead in a dubious car accident, was because of his parents.  
Because they loved him. They loved him so, so much, that Lance couldn’t bring himself to break their heart like that, to make they lose a child.

He could wish he was never born all he wanted, he wasn´t hurting his mama and papa.

You could think that Lance was an ungrateful ass if he had the love of his family. But sometimes, love wasn´t enough.  
To him, at least, love wasn´t enough.

Right now, he was in space though, so his parents probably didn´t count right now.

He was in space, with his team, Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, Keith, Allura, Coran, and the mice. So right now, telling someone about his depression involved them six.

Lance had really thought of it. He really, really did.  
The answer always came down to no.

Have you ever tried to evaluate yourself in the eyes of others? To see your flaws and your goods? Because he often found himself doing it.  
The result depended of his mood, usually. Some days, he was nothing but a worthless, useless, ugly and obnoxiously annoying piece of shit that somehow always found a way to fuck things up. Other days, Hunk laughed loudly at his jokes and oh god, he was a big shot.

Somedays, somedays he saw his reflection, or the way some weird alien’s gaze lingered way too long in him, and he felt gorgeous (maybe the alien was just scanning how tasteful he was though, one never knows). And then he considered how funny he was, and how much he cared for others, his big heart full of love, and he imagines his future lover saying, “I still don’t believe how I cached someone as good as you”.

Lance laughed. A voice deep in his heart answered, a voice he hated and feared, a voice that was always right.

“Because I’m a fucking mess” he would answer.

Lance was a simple guy.  
He liked the simple way the word mess described him perfectly.

Overly anxious and paranoid, depressed, full of hatred, with big mood swings, overly sensitive, crybaby, egoistic, self-sacrificing, weird, exaggerated, too self-relayed, afraid of commitment, and above all, addicted to self-pity.

A mess.

Who would want that? Putting all bad cliché love movies aside, leaving all those sappy soap operas, or those bad written stories about sad teenage girls that didn´t belong. Who would want such a complicated person? 

Who would want Lance?

No one. 

It would be way easier if his heart could just accept it loose hope.

And when Lance wondered if he should tell his friends about his struggles, he doubts. He doubts because he knows what would happen if they know the truth.  
He knows that they would worry for him first, and care for him, maybe they could even help him.

But then?

Lance would just become a bother.

So he smiles.  
He fakes and smiles. Hoping that one day his smile will become truth. Hoping that someday someone will realize how fucking fake his smile is.

Faking it till he makes it.

Even though he doesn´t even know what ‘it’ is.


End file.
